


Lust or Love

by angelsflyaway



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, High School, Incest, Minor Character Death, Modern Era, Sexual Content, Teen Angst, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 05:45:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2056005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsflyaway/pseuds/angelsflyaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drama based loosely on the famous Vocaloid song Spice! A story about a girl who fell hopelessly in love with a guy who loves someone else and a guy who unintentionally fell in love with someone he can't ever have Isn't it the perfect combination?</p><p>Len is the same womanizer, but still a teenager with angst-y feelings. Miku is still one of Len's numerous exploits, equal to the rest of them. What if someone found out about Len's feelings for his sister in the heat of the moment?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lust or Love

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Vocaloid and its characters are the properties of the Yamaha Corporation. _Spice!_ sung by the Vocaloid Kagamine Len is produced by Ryuusei-P (流星P ). This work of fan fiction is made for the delight of the writer and the readers, not for profit. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

_PART I_

* * *

No one is home. No one ever is. Mom is always out at work. Dad is in Kami-knows-where. But it's okay. I have company.

The doorbell rings like crazy. "Just a minute!" I dash to answer it. I know who's at the door, but to be sure, I checks through the peephole then I open the door.

After that, it all happens so fast. The door slams shut, locked. My back hits the wall, and before I can react, lips press against mine. He is aggressive, as always, so when he pulls back and started trailing kisses on my neck, I was done for. I feel his hot breath tickle my ear and the next thing I know he is assaulting _that_ sweet spot. My knees buckles.

Ever the vain one, he draws back to look at me, to admire what he did so effortlessly. I can't help but whimper a protest at the lack of him—I want more of him—while he eyes me like a masterpiece. His hand ghosts to the hem of my worn-out shirt and under, tracing my skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps.

I'm not wearing any bra, being home alone and all and I know he would like it. And he did. He hums a deep, sexy melody that stirs my insides in approval. I take this time to eye him like he was doing to me.

I focus on his eyes, which are dark, dilated. This speaks to me very greatly because it means that he felt the same as me; that I was not alone. He is as turned on as me, and the desire comes from both of us, floating through the air, getting us drunk in its haze. We stare at each other, feasting our eyes, until the static became too intense for the both of us to bear that we just had to close the annoying distance between us.

We went back to making out by the door. I feel his tongue trace my lip and in turn I clutch his shirt tightly. His finger grazes my nipple, the sensations are too much and— _Oh dear Lord_ —I moan against his mouth. I feel something hard against my stomach.

He breaks our hot tongue-dance and leaves me hazy with lust. "Bedroom," he mumbles, which I almost didn't hear. I was too busy dazing at his mouth, wet, puffed up, like mine. I know it was throbbing and sensitive, like mine. My mind is screaming: _I did that. I did that. I did that_.

I look at his dark eyes. No words need to be spoken.

All the while I slowly reach out to hold his hand, to lead him into my bedroom, but all I hold was air. So, I turn and walk to my room, with him trailing behind me.

No words are needed. Everything about this arrangement is unspoken, agreed upon in silence. He would come. I would invite him in. We would—er— _entertain_ each other. He would leave and we go back to our normal lives. No strings attached. No conversations. Just direct to the point. Just pure sex.

Somehow, this talk-scarce relationship has its benefits. We don't talk, yes, but we know each other better than anyone else. I know what he likes. He knows what I like. We have pretty much memorized each other. And it doesn't get boring, we experiment sometimes.

I can't help but feel something was off. The moment we lay on the bed and start playing, teasing, pleasuring, I realize how breathless he is, how he seems unrestrained. His responses are louder. He was always in control, it's what he likes, but I've won more games than him tonight. I disregard the thought, it distracts me from the task in hand (or, should I say, in my mouth). I was busy enjoying the way he clutched my hair, albeit being painful.

I think maybe this is it. He's in this for the long run. No more other girlfriends—just me. I think, finally, he returns my feelings, as that could be the only explanation for the different Len with me in my bed.

And that was foolish. I should have noticed something was wrong. It was there; right in front of my face, mocking me. It was in the way he moans, the way he grunts, and the way he called out my name.

Because it was the wrong name.

He was into it a bit too much. He lost himself. He lost control. Because as he pounded inside me, both of us struggling for release, he called out a different name.

" _Rin!_ "

* * *

I never pegged myself to be an idiot. Idiots touch things you aren't supposed to touch. Idiots look at things you should not see. Idiots live in the illusion that everything will work out in the end and live happily ever after. Idiots don't fall helplessly and irrevocably in love with a person who has multiple lovers and lusts after his sister.

It didn't take a genius to put two and two together—not that I was admitting I was an idiot. I woke up in bed alone, like usual, but the off-feeling remained in my gut.

Gossip was a bit lively at school than usual, like everything was off. I find out from a red-haired guy I managed to charm effortlessly that Rin was going out with Kaito.

It was the news of the century, he said with heart-shaped eyes. Or that is, in the bounds of high school.

"They're such a nice couple!" the red-haired guy complimented. _Campus crush together with school sweetheart._ Popular guy dating popular girl. The usual factor that the rumour mill gets off with.

While gathering some stuff from my locker, I spot the happy couple. Instantly, I feel someone beside me. I didn't even glance; I don't need to, because I knew who it was. The same smell assaulted my senses, reminding me of our naughty and pleasurable escapades.

"Look at them," he said conversationally, as if we weren't friends (we're not) or as if we weren't doing each other last night (and early this day).

I resist the urge to look at his face, afraid that I'll see it full of jealousy. I shrugged and turned to slam my locker shut. "They do make a nice couple," I reply conversationally back, because that's what I've heard everyone say about the blue-haired prince and the blonde-haired princess.

I look at him from the corner of my eye to see how he'd react – he cringed a little. To cover his slip-up, he leans casually against my closed locker door. "Yeah, nice."

He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

I think he doesn't know that he said his sister's name last night, but while I contemplated whether I should tell him or not, he pressed his lips against my cheek, almost close to my lips, and bid, "See you around."

I was taken aback, shocked. I was torn between killing him and blushing uncontrollably, the former because his little peck earned me unnecessary attention from his multiplying fan club (if looks could kill) and the latter because he just kissed me. In public. But of course, I blushed, even though I know he was just showing off to Rin, as if I could make her jealous. _As if._

I think I've figured Len out, even for just a little bit.

I thought he was really just a playboy, untamed, breaking hearts every day, messing around whenever with whomever he likes. It turns out that he is just trying to get his mind off of Rin. In effect, he is unable to love anyone else, so he repeats the process. He takes a chance on someone more pretty, but no one was as angelic as his sister. I tried not to pity him, but my heart that loves him indefinitely won over me. I care about him too much already. Too much that I saw this routine of his acceptable. That he got used to it, to nicking girls at random to occupy himself.

I tried not to hate Rin. I really tried very hard not to think that she is the reason why Len changes girlfriends more than he changes clothes. I tried to ignore that he tries hard to look happy and nonchalant in front of Rin. In fact, I should hate myself for noticing things that aren't supposed to be noticed—that's what idiots do.

But what really gets to me is that Len's heart has been captured by Rin and nothing will change that.

The lovestruck puppy in me wanted to hug him and hide him from the evil world.

Two days later, I find myself in the same situation as _that_ night. In the empty recluses of my house, I was again pressed against the wall, him assaulting my neck as I respond wantonly. I clutch his hair tight, even if I knew for a fact that I was being used, like all the other women he goes to bed with every night. It's practically screaming in my head that...

 _...he doesn't want you; you're not different from the others; he's just using you; you're nobody (compared to_ her _)._

In this moment, it bothers me why I even open the door for him.

Other times I wonder if we all compete with each other to see who gets most of him. I wonder if we compete on who gets his attention. I wonder if we compete on who gets to make him feel most satiated. I wonder if we compete to see who experiences most of his touches. However, I wonder if they do realize our obsession over this guy should be given up. After all, we all lost. To his sister. Rin.

I wonder if he touched us and pretends that we are his sister. This is the one I'm most sure of. After all, I am a chief example.

And then it washes over me, the thought enough to bring me back to sobriety, to pull away from him, disgusted.

Len is in-love with Rin.

His sister.

The brother is in-love with his sister.

It makes me sick.

Now his sweet kisses, his electrifying touches, his warm body against mine repulses me, like a disease.

"Stop."

The sister-thing. The multiple girlfriends. The screwing around. And being one of those girls.

"I can't do this, Len, stop." I try to push him away.

I'm resisting the hurl in my stomach, a threat to empty the contents from dinner.

He continues on sucking my collarbone. "You can, Miku. Loosen up."

"No." He didn't stop. Determined, I push him harder and that does the trick.

We stare at each other for a moment. His eyes scan me, like I'm a case that needs to be solved.

"Hey, if this is about the other day...I'm sorry," he said. ' _No! That's wrong_ ' I practically scream in my head. "I thought you'd be happy about that. I didn't mean for those girls to—" He was talking about that innocent kiss he gave me in school. It's true that the girls at school were meaner to me than usual, but it was nothing I can't handle. I did before. And I have my army of admirers to fend against them. However, he's coming into my personal space again. I can't let that happen.

"Stop," I pleaded, pressing myself against the wall even though it won't help me get away. "Stop." I think he notices how I flinch away from him because he did stop.

He looks worried. It makes my heart flutter, but I stomp it down and tell myself not to fall under his spell again. He's just faking it. He's not really worried. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm sorry... I can't... You have to—need to leave. It's wrong...the other night," I answer. "Please, just go."

Now he looks confused. "What did I say wrong?"

"Please, leave. Leave."

"What is it?"

"I—I'm not—Just go—"

"Tell me," he persists. I could tell he was resisting the urge to grab my shoulders and tell me to snap out of it from the way his fingers twitched.

I was silent for a while.

And I decided, however painful, that I should tell him.

"My name." My voice was small, so small, I hope he didn't hear it.

"And what did I say instead?

I cringe, feeling a prickling sensation in my eye. I didn't want to cry.

"Her name," I croak out, so I clear my throat and try again. "You said her name."

"What are you saying? I didn't say any—"

"Rin. You said 'Rin'. You said it when we were... I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore." I wrap my arms around myself and look away, wanting him to go away.

For what seemed like an eternity, we stood there like our feet was glued to the ground. He didn't say anything back, the silence awkward and stifling. I didn't get to see the emotions play on his handsome face: the flabbergast; the confusion; the shock; the silent stammering; and especially not the hesitation to leave me alone.

But in the end, he left.

In the empty recluses of my parent-less house, if it was possible it got colder the moment I heard him shut the door on his way out.

* * *

The next day, I didn't see him. He wasn't around his usual flock of girls. I didn't see him in the hallways. At lunchtime, it was impossible to see him among the crowd of students in the cafeteria so I didn't try. Even in our mutual classes, he was no-show.

He was avoiding me—I figured as much.

I tried not to let it bother me. After all, it was just sex. Nothing more, nothing less. I'm sure he felt the same way.

It was easy really, except that I had a lot of free time and that I'm not very busy, so, in reality, it wasn't easy. I need to preoccupy myself with other stuff, so I decided to go shopping.

It was nice, to divulge myself in girly things, it took my mind off other things (like your one true love who likes his sister). That is until I found myself in the lingerie department.

Don't get me wrong; I've been here frequently, most especially when a certain guy was a little overexcited and ripped off my undergarments instead of unhooking them or taking them off properly.

However, that wasn't the thing. Thing is, Rin was here, and she was waving and walking.

To my direction.

Can't escape now...

Here she was. The girl. That girl. And she was smiling. "Hi Miku!" she greets so cheerfully, it was mocking my sour mood.

I prided myself in being a good actress; I can hide my emotions well. "Hi Rin." I smile.

"What are you doing here?" Her eyes danced around in a conservative way. I'm guessing this is her first time to linger into this part of the department. This part of the department had the most...

You can guess by the way Rin is practically a tomato...

"Shopping." Even I wasn't this riled up in my first time here. Poor virgin Rin. "You?"

She started playing with her fingers. "Er...you see..."

"Shopping as well?" I guess.

She nods fervently. I swear she was redder, if that was possible. Is it also possible to see steam over her head?

The sleeping devious side me was stirring awake. In all mischievousness, I smiled. I leaned in closer, as if I was just going to tell her the deepest darkest secrets, trying to rile her up even further. I knew this was very sadistic, but I still did it.

I covered my mouth in a secret-telling way. "Is it..." I paused for effect. "For..?"

I thought she was going to pass out.

"Yes," she squeaks out too fast.

In all honesty, I wonder what Len sees in his sister. Whatever in the world does the sex-god see in this innocent, zero-sex-capacity little creature?

"Well, you've come to the right person. See I know what he likes, so rest assured I know what will—"

"You've talked with him?" she cuts off.

"Er, uh, yes?" I replied. "Anyway, I'm sure you've first thought of going for dark blue because of..." I gesture to my face. She nods, like a puppy. "That's good...good, but men often like red," I take a red set from a nearby rack and drape it on myself. "But if I think—Ah!" I scurry to a lacy black two-piece and present it to the little girl. Rin blinks rapidly.

"But that doesn't cover anything!" she exclaims in horror.

I admire the little pieces of fabric. "But I thought that was the idea?" I ask innocently.

She eyes the lingerie set warily, seeming to be in an internal battle with herself. Finally, she clenches her hand in front of her determinedly. I could almost hear her say "Alright!" She takes the hanger from me. "Well...since you know boys so much then...Thank you!" She bows and dashes off.

I stare at her retreating back.

I was surrounded with piles of clothes and shopping bags. My favourite takeaway was in the kitchen. I feel good.

I knew these things were materialistic. That they wouldn't matter in the long run. That I was vain. But I needed to get over one guy, and shopping was the first push to feeling better.

I honestly didn't know what to feel around Rin. Should I have given her a cold shoulder? But she did nothing wrong. And it's not as if Len and I were dating, and with all his lovers it was impossible for us to be boyfriend-girlfriend. I have no reason to act like she snatched my boyfriend. And I acted accordingly. I was nice. I didn't let her feel like I hated her. In fact, I helped her (even though I thought it was for someone else). I guess I think that women should help fellow women when it concerns boys and relationships.

These were the facts. These were supposed to be reassuring, calming. But my mind was racing.

I notice that I was clutching the new white frilly dress I bought, I let go. I dare not ruin the precious fabric I spent money on.

I stand up and started pacing on my bedroom's carpeted floor. I drag my feet back and forth. I take deep breaths. I inhale. I exhale. I repeat. I do this, hoping my mind would go silent, hoping my hands stop shaking and hoping my heart slows down. I take off the elastic bands holding up my hair in a twin-tail do as I pace, and I run my hands through my hair.

Why isn't it working?

I still feel sick.

My rational side knows the answer. And it tells me... _Maybe because you know what they'll be doing tonight... Him and her... They'll be doing it on a bed and—_

I halt my thoughts before they can finish. I can't bear it to think like that.

I continue panicking for a while, pacing and pacing.

Until finally, I decide to busy myself, yes.

I unload the things I bought from their paper bags. I fetch some hangers and one by one I hung my clothes, color-coding them even, just to take my mind off some of my restless thoughts. I arrange the new accessories among the ones I already have. I place my shoes on the blank spaces at my shoe-rack. I was being busy. These were all I'm doing. I think of nothing else.

That last one was a lie. I am very lost in my buzzing thoughts. What am I supposed to do? Should I still notice him at school? Should I tell about this to a friend? But almost every friend I have has a relationship with him, what now?

Should I still open the door for him?

Should we put an end to this thing we have?

Should I stop loving him?

I stop what I'm doing. _Should I stop loving him?_ My knees buckled, losing the strength to stand up straight, and fell down. I loved him even though I had to share him with other women. I cared about him even when I knew he was just using me for his selfish reasons.

I feel wet heat trail down my cheeks. For once, I let it all go; the pent-up masochistically painful frustrations piercing me like a dull knife. I was not okay. I wasn't feeling good and I lied.

I sob into the new dress I was clutching, not caring that it might get ruined. I stay there on the beige carpeted floor long enough that I feel my back ache and long enough to feel my legs throb from the weight I put on from an uncomfortable angle.

That is until I hear the doorbell.

I stopped sobbing, like it had an off switch. I stood up and brushed off the dirt that got on my clothes. I tossed the dress on a chair. I wiped off the tears on my face and sniffed it all out.

I hustle to the door. But who could it be? If it was my mom or my dad, they would call, but they didn't. I don't remember inviting any of my friends here today. I was careful not to mention anything to them.

And it dawned upon me as I was going to peek through the peephole, making me stop and wonder. But it was impossible. It couldn't be him.

I peeked.

It's him.

What was he doing here?

Rin should have been with...

No, it's not Len—what was I thinking?—it was Kaito. Not Len.

And that was why Len was here, in front of my door. After what happened, coming here was his last resort, I know that.

I know; between the many lovers he that he has, he will never love me back. I make this decision hastily.

And I accept it. I'm still in-love with him, despite the fact that he is in love with his sister.

Because right now he needs me and I love him and I care for him enough to accept it—such are the things that love does to you.

I open the door and let him in.

* * *

_END OF PART I_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, this is the first story I've posted on this website. Please go easy on me! x
> 
> Next chapter is in Len's POV.


End file.
